


Treasured Memories

by justawayfan



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depictions of Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I just really love these two, Kuro is mentioned, but the angst is TOO REAL, got some OC's floating around but they just pop in and out, maybe i'll write something super cute and fluffy one day, much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justawayfan/pseuds/justawayfan
Summary: Emma reminiscing about the time she first met Wolf. An injured Wolf proves to be quite a daunting patient to treat. Pre-Hirata Estate Siege
Relationships: Emma & Sekiro | Wolf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Treasured Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jahaliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jahaliel/gifts).



> Back at it again with another Wolf/Emma centered fic (lord help me I love these two so much it hurts). I hope you enjoy!
> 
> And i want to thank the lovely Jahaliel for beta'ing! Love you girl! This one's for you! <3
> 
> 10/8/20: I had to edit it because the beginning was wordy as hell, hopefully it's a better read!

  
She remembered sitting in her study, pouring her energy over the countless scrolls that were left in the late Dogen’s possession. It was an agonizing time, she steeled herself to research and studies to numb the pain of her father’s departure when one of her fellow colleagues, Itoshi burst in, immediately requiring her presence. Apparently one of Lord Kuro’s personal attendants had returned from an excursion and was gravely injured.

Rising from her desk, she followed the frantic footsteps of her colleague. The man was trailing behind mutters and murmurs of ‘Owl’ and ‘shinobi’ and other indiscernible sentences leaving Emma even more confused. She would have to talk to him about this later.

They neared the door of their destination when a yell sounded accompanied by a large thud from the other side. Her companion flung open the doors, “What’s going on?”

There was another apprentice who, by the looks of it, had been thrown onto the other side of the room and two guards were attempting to corner and wrestle a man into a submission. Emma immediately strode forward, “Shinosuke, Torai, stand down.”

The guards quickly turned and backed away from the struggling shinobi. Upon release he retreated near the wall, piercing everyone with a distrustful gaze. Like a cornered animal, Emma mused before turning back to the others in the room, “I ask that you leave us.”

“But Lady Emma…” Shinosuke kept a steady stance and locked his gaze to the shinobi behind her, “He has been nothing but insufferable since the moment he gained consciousness.”

Giving them a stern glance, she walked over and murmured to them, “He is injured, there is nothing more dangerous than a skilled and injured warrior backed into a corner of a room outnumbered by strangers. He is right to be cautious.” She touched the arm of Itoshi, “Trust my judgement, I will be fine.”

The two guards gave each other a look and turned towards the apprentice who merely nodded and motioned them out of the room. One by one they filed out but not before Itoshi mentioned he would bring a new set of poultices seeing as how the previous ones were smashed and scattered all around the room.

' _Now to address the issue at hand._ ' 

Emma eyed the patient; he sat hunched over but still glared in her direction. Ripped robes drenched in sweat, his skin a sickly pallor and his knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the sheathed sword at his side. Sympathy sprung in her heart, she wanted to help him.

She lowered her head and made her way towards him, only to stop a few feet away and kneel into a sitting position, “I am Master Dogen’s disciple, Emma and I am here as a physician to help you.”  
He tensed in his position but still said nothing, merely stared at her with hardened mistrust.

He was testing her patience she realized but that was no matter she sat still, hands placed on her lap and exuded the aura of the gentlest of healers. She hadn’t the faintest of idea as to the treatment he received when arriving on the premises but if what she walked into were any indication as to the welcome he received then she was sure that his justifications were valid. The situation had to be approached delicately and slowly; _trust_ had to be gained in order for his ailments to be assessed.

Reaching behind her, she brought forth a bottle of sake and poured a generous amount into a cup. Pointed and direct, those were the eyes of a feral animal, “Sake, for the pain, here…” Taking the cup she sipped and set it down, “It will dull the pain and if my being here is making you uncomfortable then I shall step out for tonight.” 

To her relief, there was an untouched roll of gauze and salve in room, he would be able make use of it if needed.

Before leaving the room, she bowed and upon receiving no response, left. 

The healer sighed, leaning her head back after sliding the screen door shut. This was the first time she hadn’t been able to approach a patient. Usually when one presented their palms and displayed themselves whole the opposing party would begin to drop their guard. This hadn’t been the case for this man, The Wolf they had called him. A master shinobi servicing under the Divine Heir, Lord Kuro.  
She pushed herself from the door and padded down the corridor towards her room.

~

The second night she returned. She made it a habit of testing anything in front of him, his dark eyes trailing over hers as she took the rim of a cup or bowl to her lips and she gulped down the first small sip before setting it down for the cautious warrior.

He never said anything, choosing to stay silent and unmoving, opting to observe whoever made the attempt to wander into his temporary den.

That night she had brought a small washbasin filled with warm water and a cloth. An injured and wary patient could be made more comfortable when clean. And after leaving everything, she would scoot back, stand, and bow but would always feel his wary gaze on her back as she leaves the room.

~

On the third night she stayed a little longer, attempting to make small conversation with the wordless man. Never had she gone this long without even being able to approach a patient. The man stood ever vigilant in the presence of another human being; however, she saw the reddened water of the washbasin and the cloth left in it and smiled. He had deemed the items she brought in harmless enough to use. Whether out of trust or desperation, it didn’t matter, as long as he was getting some type of treatment.

She spoke of the changing of the season; spring had begun to erupt into a flourish of blossoms around the Ashina estate.

She spoke of a lone tree that stood just outside the window of her study and how the changing of the seasons impacted the activities that took place around the tree. A man tending to his beloved horse just beneath the overhanging branches and the horse looking equally as pleased with its master’s doting. Children playing in snow around the tree when the chill winds of winter swept through the lands. Couples meeting under the tree to make wishes of staying with one another for as long as possible. She and the tree witnessed a great number of things as the seasons continuously changed.  
The shinobi just listened but ever so slightly she could see his guard beginning to lower. His shoulders relaxed and the edge in his gaze softened.

Finally, he turned his head away from her. A sign, an approval to come forward. Relief flooded through her and she slowly moved to his side, but it was short lived. 

Despite allowing her, he hadn’t spoken a word or made anything known of his injuries. The Wolf had allowed her near him yet hadn’t allowed passage to his thoughts. She let out a breath and slowly touched his arm, lifting it and observing the skin. There were general half healed cuts and a few bruises but nothing that suggested the main cause of how he lost consciousness.

“Is there any area that hurts most?”

“…”

“Are you able to lift your arms over your head?”

“…:

Her mouth twisted impatiently, “Is there anything you’re able to tell me about your injuries?” Again, she was met with no answer. Just a man staring out the little window with thoughts she had zero access to. It was unnerving.

Setting his arm down she scooted closer. The tension returned to his shoulders at her sudden movement, but he did nothing else. Taking that as further affirmation she reached for his shoulder, running her hand down and behind, “Any pain where I’m touching?”

Finally, a slight shake of his head. Good, she was at least getting some response. She moved her hand further across his shoulder, towards his chest when his hand gripped hers. She flinched, jerking her hand from his grasp—his charcoal eyes looked into hers with such an intensity she understood the meaning. Enough.

Her eyes narrowed then, challenging, “I apologize for the forwardness, however if I am to treat you, I need to know the extent of your injuries.” How on earth was she supposed to fulfill her duties as a doctor?

They sat, holding each other’s gaze. The rising moon cast ribbons of light into the room, reflecting his form and accentuating the sharp angles of the man before her. Death was no stranger to this man, but neither was it to her. Both danced a different tune to it but in the end the melodies always converged into a single note. The aftermath of death resonated the same no matter the circumstance.  
She sighed then, leaning back to give him some space, “I will leave for the night, but know this shinobi,” She raised an eyebrow at him, “Your injuries are under my care and I will see to it that you are healthy and walking again.”

In an instant she was up, a briskness in her step as she walked towards the door and slid it shut behind her.

~~~

The shinobi watched as the door slid shut with a definitive, shick! and blinked. He hadn’t thought his manner towards her would elicit such a reaction from the poised physician.

Feeling her fingers glide towards his chest startled him to the point his hand moved without thinking. Grasping it firmly he made sure to let her know that he would not allow her to venture further. He couldn’t.

Since he began training under his father, he had always tended to his own wounds. Some healed better than others, other times he would lie awake, washed in a slick sweat with heat ravaging him; his body throbbed with the infection that ran like a current through his blood. It was a miracle that he survived; his father told him. Any proper shinobi would have been able to properly stitch themselves up. It was a learning experience granted he survived the experience.

However, having the doctor care for him, her worrying and fretting unsettled him. Her steady gaze with ‘something’ mixed in, was it sorrow or pity? He wasn’t sure, all that he knew was that a particular sensation jostled him when she gazed at him with those eyes.

And he wasn’t sure he was willing to decipher such a feeling.

~~~

Behind the door, Emma leaned against the wall and brought a hand to her forehead. Just how had she lost her temper? Maybe the long hours at the clinic were beginning to manifest? Or maybe dealing with a certain stubborn shinobi grated on the nerves more than she assumed? She rubbed her temple, feeling much more tired than she thought she would.

It was late and she should be heading to bed, but she was restless. She gathered her things and her thoughts and decided to visit the children’s infirmary. Perhaps putting the energy to use will allow her mind settle.

~~~

The fourth night was quiet.

It was late. The female physician (Emma was it?) would have been here by now, a tray of food and various medicinal supplies in one hand and a shadow of a smile. It unnerved him, the fact that he was unable to discern her intentions by now. A stoic yet delicate presence gliding into the room with all the grace of a floating sakura petal, as gentle as the light breeze caressing his cheek after an arduous mission or an intense sparring session with his father. It momentarily in-fixed him into observing her movements; precise, delicate but with control and purpose.

He heard unfamiliar movement behind the door and tensed, the shuffling and footsteps were not those he was familiar with. Slowly the door slid open revealing a timid figure. A quick look-over he was able to discern it was another apprentice, the man’s hands trembled as he lowered a tray of food and supplies to dress his wounds.

Deeming him no threat he looked away, disinterested. His mind wandering to stories of seasons and of change, he closed his eyes, thinking of his lord -- small and alone in a manor with a much too heavy burden placed on such small shoulders. Feeling regret at not being by his side.

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. Shifting through the shadow of his thoughts until a single image of the doctor, standing beneath a blooming sakura tree stuck in his mind, keeping him company that night.

~~~

On the sixth night she was there.

The clinking of dishes echoed in the room as she went about setting the food in front of the hearth. But her mind was elsewhere. It remained in the room with that much too small body. Wracked with tremors and seizures, dark bruising, and bloody infected wounds -- barely a pulse. She scrunched her eyes, pausing momentarily in setting out the food.

Soldiers with septic wounds, townsfolk nursing horrendous burns, pain down to the bone. She had been taught to deal with such wounds with a deadly efficiency that rivaled that of Dogen’s however her heart always clenched and wavered when confronted with the children. Fragile things - broken bones and cuts left them wailing in agony and it wracked her consciousness with guilt beyond measure. Guilt for what you may ask; even she didn’t have the answer for that, maybe guilt for the state of the world? Subjecting naive souls to the harshness of reality.

Being a war orphan herself, she had hoped no child would go through what she did; she wanted to hold hope that there could be a better outcome for those that simply wished to _live_.

Wandering into the room to find that her little patient hadn’t made it through the night. Visiting in hour upon hour, checking vitals and body temperature, administering fluids when possible, dressing and redressing wounds, even coming in to merely sit, holding their tiny hand within hers and telling them fantastical stories of far off lands of warriors and heroes that were told to her when she was younger. Tales told to her when tending to elderly patients, who imparted other worldly knowledge onto her so that she in turn could pass it on to the younger generation.

  
All lost within that last hour when she walked in and held a chill, rigid hand.

  
She remembered frantically pushing back the covers, checking, and rechecking their pulse; attempting to resuscitate the patient three times, four, another and another she tried to save them. It wasn’t until a hand from one of her colleagues touched her shoulder and drew her back, whispering, “They’re gone,” that had numbed her frenzy.

  
This little life she had been cultivating, vanished within a single hour. _Gone_.  
  


With a heavy heart she stood and trudged from the room.  
  


She hadn’t slept for two days after and her fellows had left her alone. The death of a child was something not to be taken lightly. A small being just around Lord Kuro’s age. They had hopeful eyes that glittered every time she entered the room, despite the severe pain they were in. The bitter burn of sake scorched her throat as she threw back shot after shot until finally she passed out atop her scrolls that same night.  
  


And now she sat in the injured shinobi’s room, and squeezed her eyes shut willing the anxiety away.  
  


“What’s wrong?” A voice broke through her trance, harsh and scratchy from disuse.  
  


Her eyes shot open. The first words she had ever heard him speak and none of it pertained to his condition. She stared at the still seated man who was eyeing her with an unreadable expression. Curiosity? Indifference? Worry? She was unsure. The fact that he had spoken had stunned her- this man who hadn’t spoken in four to five days, who had shaken her confidence as a healer, and hadn’t made a sound when his injuries were inspected or prodded at decided to speak only in this moment.  
  


He chose to inquire as to her well-being. And something inside her began to crumble at this notion.  
  


The surprise melted away and she smiled sadly at him, turning back to the task at hand, “Ah… It’s nothing… Just… a child I was treating has passed...”  
  


It was difficult keeping the quaver from her voice, to appear strong-willed and put together but something had cracked on the last word she uttered.  
  


‘No response.’ She thought, just because the shinobi decided to speak up hadn’t meant he would lay himself bare to her in this moment. ‘It was silly to think otherwise.’  
  


But then a hand reached out in front of her, grabbing the dishes she was setting out. She startled and hadn’t even noticed the man slip silently next to her. If he noticed her surprise, he didn’t make it known, only went about setting the dishes. A small smile crept across her face as she resumed setting out the food, and something warm and fragile bloomed in her chest.  
It was the first time he had moved towards her.  
  


~~~  
  


She stayed then, slipping out for a moment to bring back another bottle of sake – Ashina brand, a familiar boldness in its taste. She tipped back the first shot - the shinobi’s own cup sat untouched in his hands though he sat with an openness that was absent in their previous encounters. He eyed her with a look of surprise and then turns his attention to his own cup. He takes a small sip and wrinkles his nose.  
  


Emma laughs.  
  


He was kind. She felt it in the way he listened to her, how he obliged her odd request of sitting and sharing a drink.  
  


“Not used to sake?”  
  


He looks to his sake and hums, “It burns.”  
  


She giggles, “That it does, though I imagine a shinobi wouldn’t have many uses for sake, hmm?” Sighing, she leans back and stretches. It was a cool night; the window was open, and a light breeze rustled through her hair and she just breathed. When was the last time she felt at ease?   
  


Tilting her heads towards him, she smiled, “I want to thank you.”  
  


His eyebrows scrunched together, “What for?”  
  


Her reflection in the sake watched her, a relaxed smile on her features and then looked to the shinobi, holding his gaze, “For listening.”  
  


A question flitted through his expression, but he said nothing, choosing instead to sip his sake.  
  


Emma laughed as he wrinkled his nose again.  
  


~  
  


It was on the seventh night that she received the news.  
  


The Hirata Estate was under siege. Bandits had ransacked the place. Taken over the bridge leading into the estate, splattering the streets crimson with the slaughter of the innocent. Even now the Nightjar had confirmed that the flames were growing with each passing second in the estate.  
  


Kuro, the Divine Heir was in danger.  
  


Her hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, propriety forgotten, heart hammering a staccato of anxiety in her chest at the thought of the young boy in danger. There was only one person who would have a sliver of hope of infiltrating the compound and rescuing him. She heard of stories of the great Owl, a fierce warrior toppling legions of opponents in just a few swift movements, she had no doubt his son was also capable of such feats.  
  


She arrived at her destination, slowing to a stop in front of the shinobi’s room. Her fingers trailed on the edge the door, hesitant. _But why_? The only thing blocking her way from delivering this information was this thin sliding door. Nothing was stopping her from throwing it open and obliging the shinobi to help the divine heir- his master was in danger and as the shinobi code dictated, he was sworn to lay his life before his lord. She knew this, and yet there was an inkling of dread dripping in the back of her mind. He wasn’t fully healed; his face still lacked a flush of color and his hand movements were shaky. She knew if she told him this bit of information - she would be leading him to his death.  
  


She grasped the door and slid it open and her heart dropped.  
  


The room was empty.  
  


The bottles of empty sake and cups from last night were placed neatly where the shinobi previously sat. A single note was left atop the folded bedding. The strokes of the characters precise and sharp. “I should be the one thanking you.”  
  


Holding the note to her chest, she looked out the window, red streaked the horizon in the direction of the Hirata estate, smoke and clouds billowed ominously, intertwining into one another as the pitter patter of rain droplets thudded on the rooftop shingles. She clutched the paper, the texture of the parchment smooth against her fingers and uttered a single prayer for the man who almost became a friend to her.  
  


‘ _Don’t die._ ’

**Author's Note:**

> So uh... That Ashina sake dialogue am I right? 
> 
> But thank you so much for reading! I really really appreciate it and I hope whoever you are, wherever you are have a lovely day!


End file.
